


Cigarettes

by nefarious_irusu



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Burns, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Cigarettes, Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cutting, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, One Shot, Platonic Cuddling, References to Depression, Self-Destruction, Self-Harm, Short One Shot, Supportive Victor Nikiforov, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-27 06:12:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16213118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nefarious_irusu/pseuds/nefarious_irusu
Summary: He had learned long ago that not all pain was unwelcome. When he was feeling dead, it could bring him back to life.





	Cigarettes

He lit the cigarette, but he didn't breathe it in, or even hold it to his lips. No, he lit that cigarette simply to brand his own skin. He hissed at the pain, but he continued on. He took out his lighter and lit the tip again when it extinguished on his flesh. He left mark after mark, all scattered in places that no one would ever look.

He was only satisfied when six circular burns dotted his inner thighs, and the tingling beneath his skin had died down. His heartbeat returned to normal after some time, and the ache in his chest subsided the slightest bit. He would be able to breathe again, at least for a little while.

He had learned long ago that not all pain was unwelcome. When he was feeling dead, it could bring him back to life. The cutting, the burning, the bruises- it was all solid proof that he was still here. He could still make himself _feel_ something, when nothing but turmoil filled him.

Being clad in just his dance belt was the only time when his shame was visible. He made a point to change when no one else was in the room, and to only use private baths. He hid his habit well, but it only served to let him drown further in his own destruction.

He felt that he had no one to turn to, that no one cared if he was alive or dead. No one liked him for his personality, or his soul. No, they only liked him because he was a prodigy who showed promise in his sport. He could confide in no one, not even his coach. So he suffered alone, and coped on his own.

No one saw the marks until he was fifteen. He had tried to duck into the hot spring with the privacy towel shielding them from view, but he could tell by the look he got that the marks had been seen. They were fresh ones, too. He avoided Yuuri and Viktor for the rest of the evening after they got out of the warm water.

“Yura? May I come in?” Viktor spoke in their native tongue, just as softly as he knocked on the door. 

“No,” Yuri muttured, rolling over and facing the wall. “Piss off.”

Viktor's sigh was heavy enough to be heard through the door, which creaked as it opened. “I'm coming in anyway.”

Of course; Viktor always did whatever he wanted. If being countries away from Yuuri and having absolutely no coaching training didn't stop him from flying out here, why would a door and a sharp remark keep him from entering a room?

“I want to talk to you.” The bed dipped as he sat on the edge of it, his heat radiating onto Yuri's back.

“Get out,” Yuri spat, trying to stand his ground.

He went rigid at the warm hand on his side, but Viktor kept it there anyway. “What are they from, Yura?”

Viktor's soft words and gentle touch almost made Yuri's chest cave in and his emotions pour out, but he squeezed his eyes shut and willed his weaknesses away. “Nothing, now leave me alo-"

“I used to cut myself.”

Yuri's throat tightened up. Viktor's hand remained on his side, shaking as much as his voice. Yuri remained silent, praying that the tears gathering behind his eyes wouldn't leak out. He didn't know that Viktor could be just as weak as him, and he nearly crumbled under the weight of the realization.

“I know you don't think I would understand, or maybe you think I'm overstepping by even asking you, but-” His voice broke off for a moment, almost in a whimper. “I do know what it's like and… I don't want you to be alone like I was. I don't want you to make the same errors that I did.”

“Errors?” Yuri finally croaked, managing to find his voice. His entire being was vibrating, his pulse wracking his frame. He couldn't silence the earthquakes inside his veins.

“I didn't ask for help, I didn't let anyone in.” Viktor's voice sounded dangerously close to breaking. “No one found out until it almost cost me my life.”

Nausea rolled in Yuri's stomach, and his lungs dropped down to add to his sickness. He didn't want to think of Viktor so pained- he certainly didn't want to think of him _dead_.

“This can't kill me,” he finally bit back. His voice sounded so much weaker than he had hoped.

“You can get an infection, Yura. Whatever you're doing can lead to another form of self-harm, something more dangerous.” Viktor's hand was trembling, wracking Yuri's ribs to his core. “Talk to me, please.”

Yuri had never expected to hear Viktor, of all people, beg for anything. The desperation in his tone was only outdone by the fragility- Yuri was afraid he might break him if he said the wrong thing.

“No one was ever supposed to see,” he whispered, surprised at how easily honesty had begun to leak from his mouth.

“I know,” Viktor agreed. “I know.”

Viktor's hand moved from Yuri's side as he stirred, and suddenly, Yuri could feel his breath on the back of his neck. He went even stiffer, frozen as Viktor wrapped his arms around him in a warm cocoon. The touch wasn't _unwelcome_ , but Yuri resisted falling into it. He had to be strong; he had to keep himself from breaking apart.

“Haven't you heard of personal space?” He barked, not sounding as irritated as he intended.

Viktor's breathy laugh ghosted Yuri's neck. “Everyone needs to be held once and awhile,” Viktor reasoned. “But you aren't going to get away with changing the subject.”

Yuri sighed, the light moment helping him to get his bearings again. “What do you want me to say? That I won't do it anymore?”

“No,” Viktor breathed, “because I know you would only say so to shut me up.” He wasn't wrong about that. “I want you to tell me why you do it. What thoughts inside of you make you want to hurt yourself?”

Yuri's bearings fell out from underneath him again. He swallowed twice before he found his voice. “They aren't thoughts…” He exhaled shakily, and Viktor pulled him closer. “They're more like feelings.”

Viktor hummed softly. “What sort of feelings?”

Yuri bit down on his lip, chewing carefully. “An ache in my chest… something swirling in there, like someone has a freezing cold fan and a heater on at the same time and the air is moving too fast to mix.”

“And what else?” Yuri didn't complain as Viktor began stroking his hair.

“Like my veins are on fire, and my blood is boiling under my skin. Everything vibrates, my whole body. My skin feels like it might fall off.”

“Are there any other feelings?”

Yuri nodded. “Sometimes I just feel dead and numb.”

Viktor was quiet for a moment, his fingers moving rhythmically through Yuri's lock. His eyes were starting to grow heavy. “And does the pain help to alleviate those feelings?”

“... sometimes,” he whispered.

“Maybe we can find something that works all the time, then,” Viktor suggested. “But to do that, you'll have to tell me when you're feeling any of those things, so we can find something to help.”

Yuri swallowed, fully awake again. His heart sank in his chest- Viktor must have been talking from his own trial-and-error experience. “What helped you?”

Viktor didn't miss a beat. “At first, snapping a rubber band to my wrist instead of cutting. Then, a soft hairband. Eventually, just tapping on my wrist. But there was more than just replacing the physical action.”

“What else was there?” Yuri tried not to let hopefulness cloud his voice.

“Talking about my feelings, or journaling about them. Skating them out. Just finding some way to release those emotions without doing myself any harm.”

Yuri sighed, knowing it wouldn't be as easy as Viktor was making it sound. “I can try,” he mumbled.

“I'll help you,” Viktor replied. “I want to help you.”

Barely audible, Yuri asked, “did someone help you?”

“Yes,” Viktor breathed, “someone certainly did.”

Yuri decided against asking who it was. “I'll try,” he repeated.

“Thank you,” Viktor answered, as if Yuri was doing him a favor. “Please, just come to me if you're ever feeling like that. No matter what else is going on- I will be there for you.”

“Okay,” Yuri croaked. He shivered at the loss of contact as Viktor moved away, leaving him as cold as the ice they skated on.

Viktor's hand touched his side again, creating a small pocket of warmth that Yuri clung to. “Come sleep in my bed tonight?” He asked. “I would feel better knowing that you're safe.”

Viktor making it seem like it was for him instead of Yuri made it hard to resist, but he managed. “I'll be fine. I'll come to you if I need you.”

The words nearly satisfied Viktor. “Promise?”

Yuri rolled his eyes. “Promise.”

His hand left and the bed sprung back into place, soft footfalls inching towards the door. “Goodnight, Yura.”

“Goodnight…” 

_And thanks_.

He didn't realize he had said the words out loud until Viktor whispered back, “you don't have to thank me.”


End file.
